


Babysitting Maria

by wizardofahz



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-22
Updated: 2016-03-21
Packaged: 2018-05-08 08:11:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5489966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wizardofahz/pseuds/wizardofahz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maria's been de-aged, and Fury asks Natasha and Clint to be her protection detail.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> An anon on tumblr, where this was originally posted, requested de-aged!Maria spending time with Natasha and Clint. This is the result.

“Babysitting?”

Clint and Natasha exchanged looks. 

“What Barton means is this isn’t the assignment we were expecting.”

On the way over, they had been trying to predict their new assignment. Since it came from Fury instead of Coulson, their ideas had been much bigger, more dangerous, more exciting. Babysitting didn’t measure up in the least.

“She’s not just any kid,” Fury said. Then he sighed. “I get enough flak about my deputy director being too young as it is.” He looked back into the living room. “As it was.” 

“That’s Hill?” asked Clint incredulously. “What happened?” 

Natasha peeked around the corner. Little Maria was sat on the armchair reading a book, and Natasha could tell that Maria was trying to eavesdrop. Her eyes scanned the pages, which she turned regularly, but the tense shoulders gave her away. At five years old, Maria was good though. Natasha had to give her that.

“That’s not important,” Fury deflected. “What matters is that SHIELD has plenty of enemies that want to see its deputy director dead. I’m counting on you two not to let that happen.”

“And what does she think is happening?” asked Natasha.

“We’re friends of her mother, and we’re looking after her for a while. But she’s a smart kid. She knows something’s not right,” Fury explained. Much like with Rogers’ defrosting, all technology in the safe house was time period specific, which in child Maria’s case was the 1980s. He handed Natasha a folder. “In case she asks about her.”

Natasha opened the folder to find a dossier on the mother that Maria had never known. After a quick look through, she handed the file to Clint and went to introduce herself to Maria. 

“Hi, Maria,” Natasha said gently as she sat on the coffee table across from her. Maria put her book down to observe the newcomer. “I’m Natasha. My friend Clint and I are going to be looking after you for a while.”

“Hi,” Maria responded quietly but said nothing else.

“Watcha reading?” Natasha asked.

Maria showed her the cover. “It’s a book on the ocean.”

Natasha smiled. Of course it was. Anyone who knew Maria knew how much she enjoyed swimming in the ocean. “Want to tell me about it?”

Maria shrugged.

“Hey, kid,” Clint’s voice suddenly said behind them. “You ever shoot an arrow before?”

Natasha spun around quickly and was relieved to see that his bow was accompanied by non-lethal plunger arrows. Still, only time would tell how disastrous of an idea that was.

…

About an hour after tucking Maria in for the night, Natasha noticed a child-sized silhouette sneaking down the hallway. She gave the child a bit of a head start before tailing her.

They ended up in the kitchen. Natasha watched as Maria pulled the refrigerator door open then dragged a chair over to the fridge.

“It’s okay if you want milk after bedtime, but you’ve got to tell me,” said Natasha as Maria reached for the gallon jug of milk on the top shelf.

Maria froze then turned to look at her guiltily. Natasha grabbed the milk out of the fridge and retrieved two cups. 

“I can do it,” Maria protested.

“I know, but maybe I’d enjoy the company.”

They sat in companionable silence for a while before Maria broke it. “Did my dad give me up?”

The sudden question surprised Natasha. “What?”

It wasn’t the question itself that surprised her. She’d heard enough about Maria’s father to know the child would consider it an actual possibility. Natasha just hadn’t expected Maria to actually voice it. Throughout the day, Natasha had observed that child Maria was as closed-off as adult Maria.

“You can tell me if he did.”

“No,” Natasha replied vehemently. “Didn’t Nick explain what’s happening? We’re friends of your mother. We’re just trying to get to know you.”

“What was she like?” Maria asked curiously.

Natasha recited some intel from the dossier. She mentioned how much Maria looked like her mother. She talked about what a good person she was, how she was fair, loyal, and kind.

“She sounds perfect,” said Maria, sounding intimidated. She stared at the bottom of hew now empty cup. In a barely audible voice, she admitted, “Sometimes Dad says the wrong person died the day I was born.”

At that, Natasha was out of her chair and kneeling beside Maria’s. She gently guided Maria’s chin up until their eyes met. “That’s not how it works. It’s not a trade-off, and even if it was, it doesn’t matter. I wouldn’t trade you for her. Your mother wouldn’t either.”

Maria didn’t look convinced but nodded all the same.

“You want to go back to bed?” Natasha asked and wasn’t surprised when Maria shook her head. “I didn’t think so. Want to draw on Clint’s face while he sleeps? I’m sure we can find some markers somewhere.”

…

The sound of a crash emanated from the living room followed by Clint shouting, “I didn’t do it!”

Natasha sighed. Whatever had happened, Clint had done it; of that, Natasha was sure. He wasn’t so chivalrous that he wouldn’t blame whatever happened on a five-year-old who he knew wouldn’t get in trouble. 

She made her way to the living room where she found Clint and Maria standing around the shards of ceramic vase that previously stood on the mantel. Maria was fighting back a smile, vestiges of their previous night’s conversation forgotten. That was perhaps helped along by the green glasses, orange smiley face, and purple mustache drawn on Clint’s face. 

“Clint, what did you do?” Natasha asked sternly.

“I didn’t do it,” Clint reiterated, holding his hands up in the classic _I’m innocent_  gesture. “It just fell by itself. Right, Maria?”

Unable to stop herself, Maria giggled, and Natasha said, “I knew it.”

“Oh you little traitor.” Clint swooped Maria up in his arms, one hand holding her firmly as the other tickled her tummy. She squirmed, laughter and gasps escaping from her mouth as she herself tried to escape from Clint’s grasp.

Their frivolity was short-lived. 

Red lasers shone through the curtains, and Clint quickly curled protectively around Maria as bullets shot through the windows. Natasha and Clint pulled out their concealed weapons. In Clint’s arms, Maria had squeezed herself into the tiniest ball she could but had otherwise stayed silent and still.

“Call Fury,” Natasha said as she returned fire.

Clint nodded and carried Maria away.

...

When SHIELD reinforcements arrived, Clint got Maria out of the house as quickly as possible. On their way in, a few of the STRIKE members did double takes as they saw him, but he didn’t think anything of it. He made a beeline for Fury and Sitwell.

After giving Maria a once over to make sure she was okay, Fury said, “Hey, Maria, I need you to go with Jasper, so I can talk to Clint for a bit.“

Clint placed Maria on the ground, but Maria eyed Sitwell suspiciously and didn’t move.

The crash of a window breaking had Clint curling around Maria once again.

They turned to the house where one of the assailants had been thrown out a window. Natasha jumped through and made sure he was down with a solid punch to the face.

Suddenly Maria took off. Clint caught up with her easily, scooping her up into his arms once again. “Hey, where do you think you’re going?”

“Natasha’s hurt,” said Maria, fixated on the bullet graze on Natasha’s upper left arm.

Clint was so used to seeing Natasha with cuts and bruises during missions that he’d been solely focused on the fact that she’d had the wherewithal to leave someone alive for questioning. He hadn’t thought about how it’d affect Maria.

Natasha looked up from the unconscious body below her. Her face softened. “I’m okay, kiddo. It’s just a scratch.”

Maria refused to leave Natasha’s side and sat beside her as a medic patched up her arm. It gave Clint and Fury the opportunity to debrief each other on the situation, and Fury told Clint the backup safe house’s location.

“Does the STRIKE team know who she is?” Clint asked. “They were giving me funny looks as I carried her out.”

Fury gazed at him, his face a stoic mask. “As far as they’re concerned, she’s the child of a VIP. Maybe they’re not used to seeing you hold a child like that.”

It wasn’t until they were leaving and Sitwell complimented him on his “nice glasses” with a smirk that Clint realized he still had Maria and Natasha’s drawings on his face.

…

After they arrived at the second safe house, Clint made sure the rooms were clear then set out to do a perimeter check as Natasha brought Maria in.

Natasha immediately sat Maria down on one of the couches in the living room and crouched in front of her.

“I know you’re confused and scared right now, and I can’t give you a good explanation of what’s happening, but I need you to know this is not your fault.”

Tears welled in Maria’s eyes. “You got hurt.”

“That has nothing to do with you,” Natasha reassured her.

Maria lip quivered, but she tried to stay strong. “It’s always my fault.”

“It’s not.”

“You’re here to take care of me, right? That’s what you said.”

“Yeah, but that’s not –”

“You wouldn’t have been there if it wasn’t for me, right?”

Big, wet, blue eyes gazed desperately at her, and Natasha couldn’t help but feel Maria was detrimentally logical for a five-year-old.

“I’m going to get you killed. Just like my mom.”

The thought had Maria trying to race around her, but Natasha pulled her into a tight hug. Sobs took over Maria’s small frame, leaving her quaking in Natasha’s arms.

“How you’re feeling right now, that’s how I feel too. Yeah, I got hurt, but it would hurt me more if anything happened to you. You can’t leave me, okay?” Natasha murmured. “We have to be here for each other.”

She was relieved to feel Maria nod into her shoulder.

Clint peeked in to signal everything was secure then disappeared to give them space.

Once Maria calmed down, Natasha found some puzzles for her to do. She figured it would help Maria to have something logical to be in control over.

Natasha watched as Maria systematically worked her way through the puzzle: organizing the pieces by color or feature and completing the edge first. The quiet intensity of the adult Maria that she knew had Natasha smiling. She thought the furrowed brow was particularly cute.

Clint joined them after a while, bringing in a plate of cookies and three glasses of milk. His face was finally cleared of the marker drawings. He made Maria laugh as he lost cookies in his milk and tried to retrieve them by drinking them out of the glass, leaving him with a white mustache. It seemed he was destined to have a mustache one way or another.

Natasha knew this moment was a temporary reprieve – that the ridiculous sense of guilt Maria’s father had drilled into her would rear its head again – but she figured she’d enjoy the peace while it lasted.

…

They had to move two more times after that.

The first was thankfully quiet as Fury tipped them off before any hostiles arrived. The second had Clint and Natasha seeing red.

They were asleep when the attack occurred. As soon as Clint and Natasha realized what was happening, they dashed for Maria’s room, fending off assailants as they did so. They arrived to see Maria putting up a fight. In the ensuing scuffle, Maria was thrown against a wall, knocking her unconscious.

They didn’t leave anyone alive for questioning that time. The only “good” part of Maria being unconscious, Clint thought to himself, was that she couldn’t see how terrifyingly brutal it had made them. Sitwell had looked a little green after seeing some of the bodies.

Love is for children, Natasha reminded herself as she sat by Maria’s bedside the following night. But where Maria was concerned, she guessed that was okay.

…

_Epilogue_

Deputy Director Maria Hill handed Clint a pair of glasses. “For your cover.”

Clint turned them over in his hands. He looked up at her and smiled, “You don’t want to draw them on for me?”

“What?”

The slight furrow of Maria’s brow had Natasha feeling very nostalgic.

Openly so apparently because Maria was looking at Strike Team Delta like they had grown second heads. “What’s going on with the two of you?”

“Nothing,” Natasha said evenly.

Respecting Maria’s wishes, they hadn’t told her anything about her time as a child. She seemed to think it would be a source of nothing but embarrassment. They disagreed but didn’t push the issue.

“Okay, then you’re dismissed,” Maria said, confused but deciding it was okay to stay that way.

As they left, Clint asked Natasha, “Do you think I should’ve asked for a mustache too?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a missing scene depicting de-aged!Maria interacting with Tony for mumuush on tumblr.

“You shot me in the ass!”

“You trespassed,” Clint shrugged, completely unapologetic as he sat next to Tony, who was sprawled prone on the front steps.

Tony groaned in pain and hid his face in the crook of his arm. “You shoot trespassers in the ass?”

“If they’re you.” 

Others got an arrow through vital organs; Clint figured that went without saying. He wouldn’t have shot Tony if it hadn’t been so few hours since they’d arrived at their new safe house, still on high alert after the previous one. Tony deserved to suffer for making him worry. Just not fatally.

“What are you doing here?” Clint asked.

“I was looking for Red.”

“How’d you find us?”

Tony groaned again and ground out, “I may not be a spy, but I am a genius. Now can we have the rest of this conversation inside and preferably with the arrow out of my ass?”

Clint gazed at him for a moment then said, “Fine, but first, some ground rules. We have a kid –”

“What?!”

“Let me finish. We have a kid in the house – not ours – but that means you have to be on best behavior, no swearing, and you don’t talk to her unless she talks to you. Understood?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll be a freakin’ saint. Can we go in now?”

Clint led Tony through the front door as casually as he could, not wanting to worry Maria, who was sitting with Natasha in the living room and working on her second puzzle.

“Hey, Stark,” Natasha greeted him coolly.

Maria looked up to survey the newcomer, and Tony was met with a familiar piercing, suspicious gaze.

“Holy crap!” Tony said suddenly as he realized who that gaze was typically associated with. At the outburst, the girl leaned into Natasha, who glared at him. “Is that –” Clint clamped a hand over his mouth.

Clint sighed. He hadn’t wanted to tell Tony who Maria was, but now it seemed he had no choice. Unlike the members of the STRIKE team, Tony’s mind had the capacity to consider even the most bizarre sci-fi concepts a possibility, in this case the fact that the child was a de-aged Maria.

…

Later, a fully debriefed Tony, with arrow removed, was lying belly down on the sofa, his head propped up on his arms. Maria had abandoned the puzzle when he’d first come in and was currently curled up on the other couch with Natasha. They were flipping through a book on sea life.

Tony found the entire scene oddly domestic. Even more oddly domestic was the fact that Clint was in the kitchen preparing dinner.

Every once in a while, Maria would glance up from her book, give Tony an appraising look, and then go back to reading. The looks she gave him were identical to the ones he typically got from adult her. It shouldn’t have surprised him, but it did. For a moment, he thought she’d just been shrunk, not de-aged, because it shouldn’t have been possible for children to look so intimidating.

Since he was bored, and partially to prove to himself that he wasn’t being intimidated into silence by a five-year-old, Tony said, “I think you have that piece in the wrong pile.”

Maria glanced at the one of her many neatly organized piles of puzzles pieces that he was pointing at. Behind her, Natasha glared at him.

“Do not,” Maria replied.

“Do too,” Tony shot back. Maria didn’t continue with another round of “do not”/”do too” the way he expected most children to, so he added, “I would know because I’m a genius.”

His declaration didn’t appear convince her. She gave him a once over. “You don’t seem very smart.”

Natasha smirked. Tony found himself growing indignant. He hadn’t made the best of first impressions – an arrow in the ass wasn’t very impressive, he’d admit to that – but that had nothing to do with intelligence.

“Oh, but I am. You can ask anyone in the world, and they’ll agree with me,” Tony declared confidently.

Maria looked up at Natasha, who made a noncommittal gesture.

“He’s a genius who does a lot of dumb things,” said Natasha.

“Hey!” Tony protested before backing off. “No, I guess that’s fair. I’m still right about the puzzle piece though.”

Maria stared at him for a while before hesitantly getting off the couch to take a closer look at the puzzle piece in question.

“Ha!” crowed Tony triumphantly. “Made you look.”

Maria grabbed one of her plunger arrows and shot him in the ass. That night, Clint gave her extra dessert to reward her excellent technique.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's de-aged!Maria and Natasha dealing with the Hulk as requested by mia. Sorry it took so long!

“Nat, they’re headed your way,” Clint informed her via their comms.

Natasha swore in Russian. (She was pretty sure Maria didn’t speak Russian yet.)

The good thing about Avengers Tower was that they had a central base complete with living quarters. The bad thing about it was the giant A that told the whole world where they lived. She really needed to have a talk with Stark about advertising their location to the bad guys. 

She crouched beside Maria and said, “Stay with Bruce.”

Natasha could tell that Maria wanted her to stay, would have felt more comfortable with her staying, but Maria didn’t say anything. Instead Maria put on a brave face and nodded.  It made Natasha want to stay even more than she already did. 

The distant sound of gunfire had her moving towards the door.

On her way out, she placed a hand on Bruce’s shoulder and whispered in his ear, “Do not change.”

She couldn’t help the threatening tone that accompanied her words, but she didn’t think Bruce found offense in it. The entire team had been taken by the child that Maria had turned into. Natasha didn’t think Bruce wanted to scare Maria either. 

With one last reassuring look at Maria, Natasha went to provide a diversion.

The diversion only worked for so long.

Alerted once again to incoming hostiles, Bruce said, “Maria, I need you to hide.” 

But Maria didn’t. She seemed to be readying herself to fight back or even defend him. Bruce knew he wouldn’t be able to take care of her in his current state. He’d have to change. He didn’t want her to see that. “Maria, go!”

His latest edict didn’t get her moving any more than his previous, and with time ticking down, he had no choice but to change in front of her.

As he morphed, he could see Maria eying him curiously, and it wasn’t until he roared at her that she ran off to hide.

When all the hostiles were dealt with and Natasha returned, it was to Bruce, once again in human form, trying to coax Maria out from the dented cabinet that she had hidden in.

“I’m guessing from your lack of shirt that you had to change.”

Bruce jumped as Natasha’s words startled him. He backed away from the cabinet.

“I didn’t have any choice.”

Natasha could sense the regret in his voice. “It’s okay,” she reassured him. “Thank you for looking after her.”

Bruce nodded and left the room.

Natasha crouched in front of the cabinet. “Maria? It’s me, kiddo. You can come out now. It’s safe.”

There was a brief pause. Then one of the cabinet doors opened slowly. Maria peeked out cautiously, and once she got sight of Natasha, she emerged quickly. Natasha held her arms open, and Maria slipped into them.

“You okay?” Natasha asked gently. Maria nodded into her shoulder. Natasha pulled back to get a better look at the child in her arms. “Did you get hurt?”

Maria shook her head, and Natasha confirmed her answer with a once over.

She wrapped her arms around Maria once again, Maria’s small frame folding easily into her own. “I’m sorry I left you, and I’m sorry Bruce changed. I should have warned you about that.”

“Dad does that,” Maria mumbled. She was almost inaudible.

“What?” Natasha asked, adjusting their positions, so she could hear better.

“He seems normal and nice, and then he... “ Maria stared at the floor as if she was admitting to an shameful secret. “He changes.”

What exactly that entailed, whether it was emotional or physical abuse or both, Natasha didn’t know. Maria never talked about it, and Natasha didn’t want to push.

She began to rock Maria in what she hoped was a soothing manner. “I know we don’t talk about your dad much — and we don’t have to if you don’t want to — but Bruce is different. He doesn’t want to hurt you, and if I thought he would, I wouldn’t have left him with you.”

Maria stayed silent. Natasha figured something happened, but she wasn’t going to force it out of Maria. She’d make sure to get the full story from Bruce later.

“I used to be afraid of him,” Natasha said. Maria looked up at the declaration. Natasha smiled reassuringly. “That was before I got used to the fact that changing helps him protect people. He changed because he was trying to protect you.”

Maria didn’t look entirely sold, but she nodded anyway.

“But you don’t need to worry about that because I promise next time I’ll stay with you. Okay?” Natasha added. 

That seemed to make Maria happier. She snuggled into Natasha. “Okay.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This follows sasha's suggestion of little Maria with Steve. It's shorter than the other installments, but hopefully that's not too much of a detraction.

Steve couldn’t help but smile as Maria frowned at the paper in front of her. 

“It’s not going to bite, you know,” Steve said. Maria looked up at him in confusion. “The paper,” he clarified.

She didn’t react much to his joke. She didn’t react much to most things, he’d noticed.

Maria glanced back down at paper, expression reverting to the frown he had only momentarily been able to displace.

“Whatcha thinking about?” Steve asked. When he’d suggested drawing as an activity, he hadn’t expected to elicit such consternation. 

“I don’t know what to draw,” Maria murmured. 

“That’s the great thing about art. You can draw anything you want, any way you want.” His words didn’t appear to offer any reassurance. Realization dawned on him. “You do have something in mind. You’re just not sure what in particular.”

“I want to draw something for Natasha, but I don’t know what she likes,” Maria admitted, shoulders twitching a shy shrug. When they spent time together, Natasha always focused on what Maria liked and what made Maria comfortable. That realization made Maria feel bad.

Steve tried to think of something age appropriate and came up blank. Then a thought occurred to him.

“Spiders.”

Maria looked at him curiously.

“Black widows specifically.”

Steve gave Maria a description of the spider’s shape and colors. Maria declined further help, determined to make the project her own.

By the time Natasha entered, Maria was putting on the finishing touches.

“Hey, kiddo. How’re you doing?”

“Good.” At Steve’s encouraging nod, Maria got up from the table and approached Natasha. “This is for you,” she mumbled shyly.

Natasha crouched in front of her and accepted the drawing. A black spider with an unmistakable red hourglass sat on a web in the middle of a homely looking garden. All the coloring was neatly kept inside the lines with a diligence that Natasha had learned to associate with Maria at any age. 

“This is amazing,” she gushed and pulled Maria into a hug. “No one’s ever drawn anything for me before. Thank you so much.”

Unaccustomed to such praise, Maria muttered a shy, “You’re welcome.”

Taking pity on the child, Natasha said, “Dinner’s almost ready if you want to go wash your hands.”

Maria gratefully scampered off. 

Steve handed Natasha his drawing.

Catching his eye, Natasha quirked an eyebrow and asked dryly, “Do you also need my approval?”

Steve maintained his easy smile. “No, it’s for you.”

Natasha looked down and found herself staring at a drawing of Maria. Despite the medium of blunt crayons, the picture captured its subject perfectly. Maria was hunched over her own drawing, brow furrowed in concentration and crayon grasped tightly in her right hand.

She barely heard Steve say, “She wanted to draw something you like, so I thought I’d do the same.”

Natasha swallowed thickly. “Thanks.”

It was Natasha’s turn to have someone take pity on her. 

“Anytime,” Steve said, pretending she was referring to his short babysitting stint. “She’s a sweet kid.”


End file.
